Double Bond
by DoctorPeeves
Summary: James is still hurting over the events of Skyfall, but he finally gets given a mission that may help him heal. Who is that mysterious girl, and what does she know about bombs? Mild language and suggestive scenes. Post-Skyfall fic, DO NOT READ if you haven't watched Skyfall
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is my first Bond story, would really appreciate if you could review it. Emma in the story refers to M3 (M as portrayed by Judi Dench).**

**Disclaimer - I do not own the James Bond franchise**

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James leant back in his chair, the mission briefing tossed carelessly back on the desk. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading over his face.  
"You seriously want me to infiltrate a base where the woman have to do anything they are told, or they get killed?" he asked M, whose face remained stony.  
"Is that a problem, Bond? We could always find a more willing agent if you feel uncomfortable with this mission," M responded.

James shook his head vehemently.  
"Don't worry, I think I can manage." Bond gave Mallory a winning smile. M's expression did not change.  
"Let's just say it's a test of your self-control, and your persuasive skills," M informed him. "We're positive there's a bomb in that building. Our spies in POHK sent us reports of one being built, and of its intended destination, but lost track of it after its construction was completed. We feel the girls will be your best chance of getting information. They line up to get at you anyway. Hopefully you'll manage to keep your mind on the job at hand, and you might also be able to find out about that chip."

"Gadgets?"

"Q says he has been working on something. If you understand your task, I suggest you get down to him, and over to the POHK base as soon as possible. Oh, and Bond? Try and limit yourself to getting information from one girl. Women do talk to each other, and they'll become suspicious if you ask all of them about a bomb."

* * *

"We haven't been able to give you much. A mobile, a radio transmitter that fits inside bow ties, and a gun that responds to your handprint." Q passed them to James, and he examined the transmitter. It was extremely small and round, about the size of a tomato seed. He turned it over and over, but couldn't see how to operate it.

"We control it." Q answered James' unasked question. He nodded, and slipped it inside his jacket pocket, before leaving the room to head to his flat to pack some suits.

* * *

James slowly edged the nose of his Aston Martin into the parking space. He still hadn't forgiven Silva for destroying his last one, and as for killing Emma… James thumped the steering wheel with his hand a couple of times, before turning off the ignition and slipping out of his car.

A Chinese man was standing at the back of the car, a fixed smile on his face.  
"Good evening, sir," he warbled. "Welcome to POHK. If you could give me your car keys, and tell me who you are?" James handed over his keys, fishing an ID badge out of his pocket.  
"I'm Bond, from UNARATO. United Nations Armed Resistance Against Terrorism Opposers." The Chinaman's smile finally reached his eyes.

"Ah, Mr Bond. You are just in time for the evening meal. If you would follow me…" James was led between the cars, and up a damp tunnel into a dimly lit room. It had red walls, and a highly polished wooden floor, with golden decorations covering the walls. There was a long table at one end of the room, covered with food, and a string quartet was set up at the opposite end. A clear space was left in the middle of the room, and it was packed with dancers. There were small tables dotted around the room, and James fought his way over to one.

He flopped down into a chair. He hardly had time to take a breath before a girl materialised beside him.  
"Can I get you anything, sir?" she asked. James looked her up and down. She had dark hair, blue eyes, and very fair skin. Mascara and eyeliner accentuated the blueness of her eyes, and her lips were painted cherry red. She was wearing a long-sleeved, ankle-length black dress. The colouring didn't suit her, but it clung to her, revealing her perfect contours and ample cleavage. Bond's eyes rested on this for a few moments, before moving to a white logo on the front of her dress. She was also incredibly short.

"Martini, shaken, not stirred," he replied, smiling at the girl. She bobbed a curtsey, before vanishing into the crowd. James frowned after her. There was something wrong with her, something out of place. He glanced around the room, and was beginning to get suspicious when the girl returned with his drink. She placed it in front of him, and was about to leave when James gestured for her to sit down.

The girl's eyes darted guiltily around the room, before she sank slowly into the chair opposite him.  
"I'm, uh, engaged tonight, sir," she told him, her voice shaking slightly. A lazy smile spread across his face.  
"I can wait," he purred. She paled slightly. James hadn't believed someone could be so white.  
"That actually wasn't what I wanted to ask. Now…" He didn't get to finish his sentence.

A fat, red-faced man with a fluff of white hair on his head came charging across the dance floor.  
"Where's that ghostly beauty?" he barked. James winced, the man's Cockney accent grating on his ears. The man spotted the girl, who had hurriedly jumped to her feet. He made his way over to the table, slapping the girl on the backside. He cast a disparaging eye over James.

"Unlucky, my dear chap. Maybe tomorrow night, eh?" He gave James a sickening smile, before pulling the girl out of the room. Bond watched them go, his eyes narrowed. He looked around the room, nodding gently to himself. All the women with logos on their dresses were oriental. Why, then, was the one who had served him so distinctly, so undeniably, British?

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**Hope you enjoyed it! Please review in that box down below :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Next chapter up. I'm actually slightly awed by the amount of hits this story's had so far, and I'd like to thank my first follower, Tinkernat. You basically inspired me to get this next chapter up as soon as I could.**

**Disclaimer: Although I might want to, I do not own Bond. Or Ralph Fiennes**

**Oh yeah, this chapter has some 'suggestive scenes' in it. You have been warned :)**

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"Have you found anything, Bond?" Tanner's voice sounded tired, and he stifled a yawn.  
"Very little. I think I've found the girl to talk to, though. She's British." There was a dead silence at Tanner's end of the line.  
"Are you sure?"  
"Unless Oriental women have begun to speak with clipped British tones and have blue eyes, otherwise I'm certain. She's engaged tonight, unfortunately. Do you want to know with who?"

Tanner sighed, and gave a deprecating little sniff.  
"Do you know his name?"  
"No, but I know that he is red-faced, extremely obese, and has an incredibly grating Cockney accent."

"Does he have white hair in the shape of a rabbit's tail on his head?" Tanner's voice was suddenly alert.  
"Yes."  
"Interesting." James remained silent, hoping that Tanner would elaborate. His hopes were unrewarded.

"I think the best course of action is if you get, um, together with this girl. Finding out what her name is would be a good start. And then see what she knows about POHK's plans. Do you think you can seduce her?" Tanner's voice dripped sarcasm, and James just laughed, ending the phone call.

* * *

The next morning, James made his way down to the servant's quarters, following the directions given to him by his valet, who had appeared suddenly that morning with coffee. He looked around the corner and saw a girl coming out of a room, wearing a similar dress to the one of the evening before. At the same time, Oriental women came out of a door opposite. They walked up the corridor together, the girl wincing with every step. The Oriental lady smiled nastily, and said, in a mocking voice,

"Ahh. Is little Ghostie hurting after her night of rogering with the Fat Rabbit?" The girl just rolled her eyes, turning the corner and running straight into Bond.

He clamped his hands down on her shoulders to stop her from falling.  
"Sorry, sir!" she gasped.  
"Don't worry, it was my fault." He gave her a charming smile, to which she didn't respond. James was distracted by the Oriental women, who had just struck a greatly provocative pose. He looked her up and down, consideringly. He normally would have gone for a woman who stood in such a position, but now he had two very good reasons not to. One was that he had a mission to complete, and the second was that he was strangely attracted to the reserved girl who he could feel shivering under his hands, and who seemed to be trying very hard to appear unattractive.

James transferred his gaze back to the girl's face, his icy blue eyes locking on to her startlingly blue ones.  
"Who do I need to ask for permission to have an engagement with you?" The Oriental lady sniffed deeply, and she stalked off down the corridor. The girl watched her go, before answering Bond's question.

"That would be Mr. Samachio. I'll take you to him."

Bond grabbed her wrist as she began to turn, whirling her back round.  
"Who do I need to ask for permission to get your name?" he asked her, and the girl's face split into a grin, dimples showing on her cheeks. Her smile took James' breath away.

"My name's Rosie," she informed him, bobbing him a small curtsey.  
"I'm Bond. Oliver Bond." James bent down to kiss her hand, noting the slight widening of her eyes at the mention of his name.

He straightened up again, proffering his arm to Rosie.  
"Shall we?" he asked, and she nodded, slipping her arm through his and leading him up the passage.

* * *

She was a great kisser. James had pushed her dress (a peach one this evening. It didn't suit her much, either) up to her hips, and she had somehow managed to wrap her tiny legs around her waist.

"You look far more beautiful without make-up," he murmured, and he felt Rosie's smile through his lips. Bond's compliments were usually insincere, but this one was true. She had washed off all her make-up at his request, and he had found that the chalk-white colour was actually paint, and that her natural skin colour was cream. Her lips were a delicate shade of rose, her eyes lined by long, dark lashes. She looked like a china doll.

Bond's lips gently brushed her ear, before he pulled the dress over her head, flinging it to the floor. He frowned, his hand tracing over the top of her left arm.

"What's that?" he asked, grimacing as he noticed a gentle ticking noise coming from somewhere in his room. God, he hated clocks. Rosie was shuddering under his fingertips, worry in her eyes.  
"Oh, it's just a tattoo," she told him, running a hand through his blonde hair. James smiled at her, not mentioning it looked more like a brand than a tattoo. He fell forward onto the bed, trapping Rosie underneath him, as he began to unbutton his trousers.

* * *

Later on, James couldn't say what was so different about last night that had made it the best of his life. Maybe it was because she was, basically, a prostitute. She had seemed completely detached from the whole experience, and that had just made him even more eager to please her. He had never slept with someone who made sex for a living before. Or maybe it was just her. Whatever it was, it had been good.

He looked at her, to where she was dozing in the crook of his arm. There was the ghost of a smile playing about her lips, and her eyelids fluttered briefly, as if she knew James was watching her. He took a deep breath. He had to ask her, now.  
"What do you know about bombs?"

Rosie's eyes jerked open, and she flinched, sitting up suddenly, her eyes locked onto his face. The ticking noise was back, louder than before, and Bond glared around the room. Where was it coming from?

"B-bombs?" Her repetition held a faint note of incredulity, but it didn't mask the fear that was also present.  
"Yeah. I've always been fascinated with how little people know about bombs, how to defuse them and stuff."

Rosie looked relieved.

"Oh, I don't know anything about bombs," she said, stressing the 'anything'. James nodded, the ticking noise beginning to annoy him. He decided not to push the subject of bombs, as she was beginning to get quite jumpy.  
"Ah well, I'll have to tell you all about them sometime." He smiled at her, and she grinned back.

A clock in the corridor struck two, and Rosie climbed out of bed, starting to pull her clothes back on.  
"I need to get back to my room," she informed James, pulling her dress over her head.  
"Why do you have to go back to your room?" Bond asked, sitting up to watch her.  
"Mr. Samachio's orders. I'm not disobeying him."

"Let me walk you back."  
"No!" Rosie's response was too quick, too loud to be innocent. She took a deep, shaky breath.  
"I don't want to disturb you, you'd have to get up and dressed and everything." She gave him a small smile, looking very upset, before turning and leaving the room.

James watched her go, contemplating his next move. He was certain she knew about the bomb, and he was almost positive that it was in her room. He just had to work out how to get in there.

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**There you go! Please review, it'll make my year! Cheers**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again. I'd just like to say here that I'm in my first year of sixth form, and our school has just started our mocks, which go on for the next couple of weeks. So, of course, I spent my English lesson revising by writing this chapter out by hand :). My teacher thought I was writing notes, and didn't bother me once! I apologise in advance if the next chapter's a bit slow in coming up, as I will start properly studying tonight.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond. Rosie's mine, though, so Copyright: DoctorPeeves :)**

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The English National Anthem broke into Bond's preparations. He snatched up his mobile.  
"What?" he barked into it.  
"Calm down, 007. I'm allowed to check up on you." James winced when he heard M's tones.  
"Sorry, sir. I'm just at a critical point right now. Rosie's just left, and…"  
"Who's Rosie?"  
"The British girl. She's gone back to her room, and I'm definite she knows about the bomb, and I think it's in her room. I'm going to grab her, and bring her back with me."  
"The mission's almost over, and you've only slept with one girl? Fascinating. Carry on, Bond. I expect you back within two hours." The click of the phone being put down was incredibly loud in the silence.

James snapped his phone shut, fixing his holster over his shoulder and checking his gun, before slipping his jacket over the top. He grinned to himself. M didn't realise how much this quick mission was going to cost him.

"Are you sure you want to buy Rosie?" Mr Samachio still sounded shocked by Bond's request. James nodded again. Mr Samachio sighed.  
"It will cost you £2000." James pulled out his cheque book.  
"Made out to POHK?" The pen hovered over the cheque as James watched Mr Samachio, who finally nodded.

James tapped at Rosie's door. Sounds of movement came from inside, and the door opened a crack, Rosie's eyes peering out, suspiciously.  
"I'm your new owner," he told her dryly. Her brow furrowed.  
"You bought me?" Rosie sounded surprised, looking at him as if she thought he was joking. He smiled at her.

"I like you," he said, simply. It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth. The door was opened a little bit more, and Bond automatically checked what she was wearing. A sky blue cotton nightie, exactly matching the colour of her eyes, a red silk shawl thrown carelessly over her shoulders. Her eyes still looked suspicious, and also faintly puzzled.

"Will I be a sex slave?" she asked. James shook his head. At least he could tell her something that was the truth.  
"No. You won't be made to do anything like that." Rosie rushed back into her room, calling back over her shoulder,  
"I'll just pack! Come on in!"

James stood frozen in the doorway. His feelings were threatening to engulf him, and he forced a lid down on them. He wasn't betraying her, he didn't know her well enough for it to count as betrayal. But the look in her eyes was hard to forget. They'd filled with hope when he told her that she was free. He almost felt like he should tell her that he was taking her to be questioned by MI6, to prepare her for the squashing of those hopes that he had started.

Rosie reappeared in the doorway. Her peach dress was back on, somehow suiting her more than earlier.  
"You are allowed in, you know," she said, her eyes shining at him. James gave her a small smile, stepping over the threshold into her room.

It was painfully neat. White walls, a beige carpet, no signs of individuality, not a thing out of place. The only incongruous thing was the unmade bed, with a small black rucksack dumped on top. James watched as Rosie shoved a pair of shoes and some dresses in the bag, a book following afterwards. She zipped the bag up, pulling a thin silver jacket on, turning to look at him.

James finally worked out why the dress looked so different. She was standing differently, and the dress was sitting better on her figure. He smiled inwardly. She had perfected the art of dress-wearing to a degree that she could make a dress look terrible on her, so that a man's eyes would pass over her. James chewed his lip, thoughtfully. She obviously hated her 'job', so why was she here? The women did get a say in where they went in POHK. She must have really upset someone

Rosie was still watching him, patiently, and James realised that she was waiting for him to give her an order. He quickly collected his thoughts.  
"Mr Samachio wants to see you," he told Rosie, whose face fell ever so slightly.  
"Oh. I'll, uh, be straight back." She disappeared down the corridor. James took a deep breath. It was time to search her room.

Ten minutes later, James slumped, defeated, onto the bed. He'd ripped her room apart, and put it back together again, but there was no sign of the bomb. He sighed. He must have been wrong. He hated being wrong. It was so… humiliating. He sighed again. There had definitely been a ticking noise when he'd entered the room, but it had stopped when Rosie had left. He stroked his chin. There was something he was missing, something obvious, something he had just thought of…

A shadow filled the doorway, and he glanced up. Rosie was back, looking faintly upset.  
"Ready, sir?" she asked, and James nodded, standing up and grabbing her bag. She led the down the corridor towards the car park, James a few paces behind. His eyes were fixed on her back, his realisation growing with every step. The ticking noise had reappeared when Rosie came back, and Bond was positive where the bomb was. He was certain it was inside Rosie.

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**There you go! Please review! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Next chapter guys! Everything's a little hectic at the moment, so I wrote a longer chapter to make up for the delay in updating. Please review, I want to know what you all think :)**

**Disclaimer: I only own Rosie, and Dr Jones. I give credit of 007 to Ian Fleming.**

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"What's UNARATO like?" They were in the Aston Martin, which was purring its way along the London streets. The sight of the car had excited Rosie, who'd spent five minutes checking it over. James would have been happy to meet someone so enthusiastic about cars if he hadn't been so worried that she would blow up inside it. He glanced at her. She was waiting for an answer, her eyes fixed on his face, probing. They reminded him of Emma's eyes: they were the same colour, the same shape, and had the same intensity behind their gazes.

The pain hit him from nowhere. He switched his gaze back to the road, breathing heavily. It wouldn't do him any good to lose it; he'd end up crashing the car. But he'd never forget the feeling as he'd watched, helplessly, as the light had died in those brilliant eyes.  
"It'll be nothing like what you're expecting," he finally answered, somehow managing to keep his voice under control.  
"Are you okay?" She was sharp, he'd give her that. He paused a minute, considering his answer.  
"You remind me of someone." Rosie snorted softly.  
"Can't think who I'd remind you of."

James rested his eyes on her face for a few seconds. She'd sounded reflective, and her face was thoughtful, as if she was thinking about her past or, maybe, about the bomb that was inside her. James wondered what having a bomb inside you did to a person. Changed you, probably, and possibly made you very self-conscious. It seemed to have made Rosie very self-contained, but maybe she had always been like that.

A red light stopped him, and James decided it was time to act. The easiest way to get Rosie inside MI6 was if she was unconscious, and they were almost there. He dug in the pocket of the driver's door, pulling out a syringe and slipping it into his left arm. He looked at Rosie. She was gazing at something happening on the street, so he stabbed the syringe into her right forearm, pushing down on the plunger. Her head whipped round, first gazing with horror at the syringe in her arm, and then staring accusingly into James' face.  
"Oh no," she murmured, before sliding down in the chair, her head lolling on one side.

The traffic light was still on red, and Bond was glad of this. He could barely see through the tears in his eyes, because the way the hope had died in Rosie's eyes had been far too similar to the way the light had left Emma's.

* * *

"2000 pounds?" A quiet rage filled M's voice when he intercepted James in Moneypenny's office. Tanner and Eve were both there, staring at the sleeping figure in James' arms. Bond faced M.

"She'd better have good information, 007," M snarled, and James treated him to an indolent smirk.  
"She's the bomb, Sir." A dead silence greeted these words. Eve was smiling at him, enjoying the triumph he had gained over Mallory.  
"Get her down to the medical bay," barked M. "I want her scanned immediately!"

* * *

Dr Jones pulled off the face mask, and began washing the blood off his latex gloves.  
"Interesting job, this," he said. "She was wearing make-up over the scar, quite an expensive brand, exactly matching her skin tone. Scar itself is a right mess. Whoever sewed her up didn't make a very good job of it, she's lucky she didn't catch an infection. Bomb's in her stomach, looks like it's fused to her stomach lining. Q's looked at it, and taken some pictures. Says he'll have to study them, he's never seen anything like it before." Dr Jones shook his head slightly. "No experience," he sighed.

"Have you finished?" M asked, and the doctor nodded.  
"Just got to go back in and sew her back together again," he said cheerfully. M looked thoughtful.  
"Don't just yet. I need to ask Q something. Bond, go home and get some sleep. Get back here for 10. You'll de-brief then." James gave a curt nod, before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. He stopped in the doorway, looking back towards Rosie.

He felt slightly uncomfortable with the way everyone was treating her, like she was an interesting animal in a zoo. She was just a kid, barely out of school, and here she was, lying on an operating table with her insides open for inspection because she had a bomb inside her. He'd love to know why she did. Had she agreed to it, or had it forced upon her? He remembered something he'd wanted to ask, and went back.

M was busy talking to Q, so Dr Jones was free to answer his question.  
"The brand on her shoulder? Yes, we got Letitia up, you know, the one who speaks Chinese. Anyway, she said the seven characters form two words: powerless traitor." The doctor gave James a knowing look. "I doubt that she chose to have the bomb inside her."

* * *

"Dr Jones said the brand meant powerless traitor." It was later on that morning, and James and M were discussing Rosie.  
"Yes," M agreed. "He also said to me that the brand is recent, not more than one month old." James' eyes narrowed.  
"The bomb was finished three weeks ago," he said. "Do you think that it's a punishment of sorts?" M looked extremely grave.  
"I think that she annoyed someone superior very greatly. What I really want to know is how she became involved with them in the first place. POHK doesn't really promote inter-racial relations." He sighed softly.

"Q hacked into POHK's records. There's one Rosie on their records: Rosie Porter. Q's tried to find out where she comes from, but there's a minor problem. She's only existed for the last 5 years." James raised an eyebrow, and M gave him a grim smile.  
"She changed her name, or someone changed it for her. Q's trying to find her name before the change, but it was difficult enough to find the change. There are so many firewalls and false trails. He says it's a very expert job."

James digested this information.  
"Someone doesn't want us to know where she's from," he finally said. "Question is, does she know her past is hidden, and did she hide it herself?" M pressed a button on his desk.  
"Bring her in, Moneypenny," he spoke into the intercom. He then looked sharply at James.  
"Let me do the questioning, Bond. Tanner's coming in, too." James nodded, as the door opened.

Rosie looked very pale, still wearing the peach dress, and was shivering slightly, though James couldn't tell if she was cold or scared. Tanner pulled out a chair for her, and she gently sank into it, her eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail. Tanner moved to the side of the room, arms crossed across his chest. All eyes were on Rosie. Her gaze had finally settled on M, who seemed to find her penetrating blue eyes unnerving. He shifted slightly, taking a deep breath.

"Jacket, Bond." James frowned at M, confused.  
"Our guest has goose bumps. I'm sure our guest will appreciate some warmth here." Rosie smiled faintly at the joke, gratefully accepting the jacket. She wrapped it tightly around herself, an arm resting gently on her stomach, her eyes fixed on James' gun.

"What's your name?" M asked. Rosie's eyes slid round to him.  
"Rosie," she replied.  
"Surname?"

"Porter."  
"Real name?"  
"Rosie Porter."

She hadn't blinked yet. M was holding her gaze. James didn't know how he could manage to. Maybe he had practised on cats.  
"Our best technician hacked POHK's database and, yes, he found the name Rosie Porter. He dug deeper, and found that Rosie Porter was the result of a name change. Unfortunately, someone had protected the original name with firewalls. So, you can tell us the truth, or stick to your lies. Your decision. Just remember, there's an easy way to do this, and a hard way."

Rosie's eyes hardened, and she finally blinked. Her gaze dropped to the desk, and she ran a hand through her fringe, twisting it round her fingers, obviously considering her options. Eventually she sighed, and her eyes met M's again.  
"My name's Bond. Rosie Bond."

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**That's it! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Just like to say thanks to everyone who's following and favouriting (yes, that's a word now).  
BlueEyedBrigadier - Hadn't thought of one of those scenarios. All I'm going to say here is she's related to someone in the James Bond world.  
**

**Disclaimer - I do not own the James Bond franchise. Rosie's mine, though**

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"Another Bond, eh?" M's voice was faintly irritated. "And the same introduction. Oh dear." James was smirking slightly, but Rosie's face was deadpan. M leant forward over his desk, resting his chin on his hand.  
"What about parents? Any siblings?" Rosie's face remained blank, her hand balling into a fist on top of her stomach.  
"Does it hurt?" M nodded towards her stomach. Her hand clenched tighter, but she nodded. M raised his eyebrows slightly.  
"I'm not surprised. We cut you open, and found the bomb. Our technician told us that it's got attachments: camera contact lenses, a microphone chip in your ear, and a radio transmitter. It gave me an idea. We placed a similar device inside you. So, you see, you answer our questions, or they'll be consequences.

It was a good job Rosie wasn't concentrating on James. His mouth had fallen open at M's words, an unexplained shock running through his body. He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way. Yes, he was usually attracted to women, but this was different, this felt more real. And the more he watched her, the more he was sure he had seen her face somewhere before.

Rosie's cheeks had flushed, and her nostrils had flared. She glowered at M, giving him a withering look that James knew so well. He had, after all, been on the receiving end of it often enough, whenever Emma had been annoyed with him. Without breaking her gaze, Rosie began fiddling with her bra. M raised his eyebrows.  
"Planning on seducing the three of us? Bond's your best bet." Her eyes flickered towards James for a second.  
"Isn't this sexual harassment, or something?" Rosie asked. "One woman left alone in a room with three men? If anyone ever heard about this…" Her eyes were challenging, but M looked unconcerned.  
"No-one will ever hear of this," he told her. "And, even if they did, they wouldn't care. We're MI6, and to get information out of people, we are allowed to do anything." His voice held a threatening tone.

Rosie had frozen, her hand clenched around something she had pulled out of her bra. He face was expressionless, her eyes unreadable, though James thought he could see something resembling terror in them. For a few minutes, nobody moved. Finally, Rosie's fist unclenched, her arm straightened, and she lay her hand, palm upwards, on M's desk. A $1 casino chip way resting in the centre of her palm.

James frowned at it. The chip wasn't right, it was slightly too thick, too shiny. In fact, it looked a lot like…  
"Shit!" The word was out of James' mouth before he could stop himself. For once, M didn't admonish him. He had realised, at roughly the same time as James, exactly what the chip was, and was opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. Rosie withdrew her hand, placing both of them in her lap. She watched M as he struggled to regain his composure.

Tanner had moved forwards, and was holding his hand out under Rosie's nose. She looked at it for a few seconds, one corner of her mouth lifting in a slight smile. She shook her head gently.  
"Oh no. If I give it to you, what's to stop POHK blowing me up? They know I've got it, and they'd rather destroy the chip than let you get it. The only reason I'm still alive is that it'll take an extreme length of time to re-do all the information on it. And what's to stop you having me shot after I hand this over to you? Everything you'd ever want to know about POHK is on here."

M had calmed down again. He had a strange look on his face as he stared at Rosie.  
"You have got a very good point there. You're lucky we're not particularly keen on torture here, otherwise I'd force you to hand it over. However, I'll let you keep it, for now. Who'd have thought that a one dollar chip could mean the difference between life and death?" Rosie smiled softly again. M sighed gently, before beginning his questions.

"Now, how did you get mixed up with POHK?" Rosie paused for a few minutes, choosing her words carefully. She had never been particularly good at talking about herself, or her feelings, and she wasn't about to change her ways now.  
"I was living with my uncle in York. I didn't get on well with him. When I was eighteen, I changed my name and ran away. I got on the train to London, and boarded the first plane from Heathrow: to Hong Kong."  
"That's how you got to Hong Kong. How did you get into POHK?"

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her face unhappy.  
"I… met some people."  
"What people?" Rosie swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. Her eyes began to dart around the room.  
"What people?" M repeated angrily, but Rosie still refused to answer. M breathed out heavily through his nose.

"Alright. We'll try some easier questions. You annoyed someone at POHK, yes? That's why they put the bomb inside you?" Rosie nodded. "See? It's not so difficult to answer questions after all, is it?" M's voice was mocking, causing Rosie's eyes to tighten. M ignored this, continuing with his questions.  
"What did you do to irritate them?" Rosie took a deep breath.

"I wanted to get away, get back to London, find out if any of my family was still alive." M gave a satisfied sigh.  
"Family. We're back to my original question. Siblings? Parents?"  
"I'm an only child, so far as I know. My mother should still be alive. Her name is Lilyanne Bond. My father…" Rosie's voice caught in her throat, and she gave a small gulp.  
"My father died when I was two. He was fighting in the Sierra Leone Civil War. His name was Oliver Bond."

James chuckled under his breath. No wonder she had seemed so uncomfortable about sleeping with him. It must have felt like she was having sex with her father. M was still asking questions.  
"Why did you steal the chip?" Rosie said nothing. M gave her his most penetrative stare, but she remained silent. M's face was brick red, and he began to drum his fingers on his desk.

"Take her back to her cell, Tanner. She is not to be fed until she begins to talk." Tanner hurried forwards, pulling Rosie roughly to her feet. He twisted her arms behind her back, slipping a pair of handcuffs onto her wrists.  
"Move!" Tanner barked, nudging Rosie in the back with his gun, but Rosie didn't move. She was staring at M, her face indecisive. She wriggled her nose a couple of times, and seemed to reach a decision.  
"My full name is Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond."

* * *

**Yes, I know, repetitive ending. If I don't stop there, though, I'll probably carry on for another 1000 words! I promise I will explain Rosie more next chapter, and almost completely at some point during this story :)**

**Please put some words in the box below. It makes me happy**


	6. Chapter 6

**I am really extremely sorry for being so late. All I can say is my dad had a heart attack, and life became slightly upside-down for a few weeks. He's back home, though and on the mend, so, to celebrate, I wrote a 2000 word chapter for you! I was going to cut it off half way through, but couldn't decide where to stop it, so just carried on.**

**Disclaimer: In my dreams, I definitely own the James Bond franchise. In real life, I haven't managed to get them to sign yet.**

* * *

M waited for the door to close behind Rosie before he began to speak.  
"Insolence! If she just answered our questions, it would be a hell of a lot easier, for everyone! Though I suppose she's scared she might get blown up. Then again, she doesn't seem too fazed by that. When she was talking about what would happen if she gave up the chip… I've never heard someone talk about their death so calmly. Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond. I've heard that name before. Bond, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost. 007?" But James wasn't listening. His mind was back in the past, to the first time he had heard that name.

* * *

_Emma slid onto the car seat, pulling the door after her. She sighed heavily, closing her eyes for a few seconds. She re-opened them, staring at the back of the chauffeur's head. Funny, he didn't usually wear his hat._

"_You know your destination, Tanner will have told you." The driver nodded, not giving his usual, cheerful reply, but just put the BMW into gear. Emma frowned at this odd behaviour. Maybe the driver was just having a bad day. She sighed again, and her head on the head rest, closing her eyes._

_An hour later, Emma's eyes snapped open. Although her brain hadn't been properly functioning when she had first entered the car, her eyes had noticed things, and her subconscious had pieced them together._

"_Is there a reason for this abduction, Bond?" Her tone was sharp, her eyes hard, as she glared into the rear-view mirror. James pulled the hat off his head, and grinned at Emma's reflection.  
"Curiosity," he replied.  
_"_About what?"_

"_A girl called Rosie Bond disappears from an orphanage in York in the dead of night one week ago. Last night, her full name was revealed: Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond. Since then, your office has been a hive of activity. Your trip today is to the orphanage she ran away from.  
"Do you have to listen in on my private conversations, Bond?" James ignored that, and continued:  
"I want to know why this girl is so important to you that you'd skip your beauty sleep to find her."_

"_What makes you think I'll tell you?" Emma instantly regretted her words.  
"Aha! So she __**is **__important to you!" James was smiling to himself. He had pulled off the M1 into a service station, and had stopped the engine. Emma raised her eyebrows.  
"Are you planning on sitting here until I talk? I could just get out." Emma's voice held a commanding note, but James didn't respond. He just sat there, staring into the mirror. Emma reached for the door handle, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tugged on the handle._

"_You locked the doors while I was asleep." It was a statement, rather than a question. Her glare was full of both fire and ice, but James' gaze remained calm and steady. A great sadness seemed to settle over Emma, changing her from the proud, confident woman James was used to, into someone who seemed small and lost. The unhappiness in her eyes almost overwhelmed James.  
"I'll tell you, Bond, if you continue the drive to York. We have another three hours left of this journey, after all."  
"Your wish is my command, Ma'am." Emma made a growling noise in the back of her throat, causing James to laugh as he turned the key in the ignition._

_Emma waited until the car was on the motorway before she began to speak.  
"In 1960, a boy was born." James frowned, puzzled.  
"What's that got to do with…" Emma cut across him, sharply.  
"Bond, you wanted to know about Rosie, and I'm telling you. If you don't like my way of telling you, you're going to bloody well have to cope with it. I'm not having any more stupid bloody interruptions!" James nodded deferentially. Emma breathed out heavily through her nose, before she began again._

"_In 1960, a boy was born. His mother died in childbirth. The hospital never knew who his father was. They didn't believe that the woman knew, either. An orphanage took him in, and named him Oliver. His mother's surname had been Twist. I'm hoping your public school education taught you why an orphan with the surname Twist would be called Oliver." Emma's tone was sarcastic, her eyes with a slightly mischievous twinkle in them. The corner of James' mouth twitched slightly, and he nodded._

"_When he was four, he was adopted by a couple in their forties, whose surname was Bond. After he got through school, he joined the army. He was 25 when a journalist came to talk to him about army life, a woman called Lilyanne Shaw. Two years later, they were married and, on New Year's Day 1990, Lilyanne gave birth to a daughter, and they named her Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond. Emma paused, as if unsure whether she wanted to continue or not. She took a deep breath._

"_Well, when Rosie was three, she was kidnapped from her nursery. No matter how thoroughly the police searched, they couldn't find her. As you know, a week ago a girl called Rosie Bond ran away from her orphanage. Last night, her boyfriend told the police her full name. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think there are many Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond's in the world. I'm going to York to check that this one is the right one."_

_James' eyes narrowed, as he tried to puzzle it out.  
"I'm sorry, M, but I don't see how any of that connects Rosie with you." Emma gave him a vaguely surprised look.  
"I'd have thought that you, of all people, would have hacked into my files." James looked extremely hurt.  
"I do have some lines I won't cross, and hacking into the personal files of the head of MI6 is one of them." Emma sent him a look through her eyelashes, and replied sarcastically:_

"_Of course not. Instead, you'll kidnap me to get the information."_

_A roar of laughter escaped from between James' lips.  
"At least you know what I know, and I know, that you know what I know," he countered. Emma's response was just as playful.  
"And I suppose that I know, that you know, that I know what you know." James opened his mouth to reply, but Emma shook her head.  
"Don't you dare, or we'll be sitting here all bloody day!"_

_She sighed then, the sadness sweeping back over her face.  
"I'd better tell you, or you will hack into my files, just to find out. Lilyanne Shaw just so happened to be my daughter."_

* * *

"007? 007?" M's voice had finally reached James' brain. That name had caught him completely off his guard, and he couldn't control his tongue.  
"She's Emma's grand-daughter!" M stared at him, not quite believing what he was hearing. James quickly amended his statement.  
"At least, she's got the same name as Emma's grand-daughter, which means she probably is." M jumped to his feet, and strode over to a filing cabinet, exclaiming:

"I thought I knew that name! It was on Emma's file." James glared at M. How dare she look at Emma's file!

Mallory caught the look, and straightened up.  
"Bond, I had to look at the main page of her file to familiarise myself with MI6's current state of affairs. The names of her family members were on the main page. The one thing I didn't do, and never would, was look at the personal details of Emma and her family members. I do have some standards, you know." James' respect for M increased slightly. He would never respect him as much as he had respected Emma, though. Then again, he would never respect anybody as much as he had respected Emma.

M was giving James a calculating look.  
"The question is, 007, how do you know? I can't see you hacking into Emma's files, out of respect, unless… she told you, didn't she?"

James remained silent. M was answered. He bent back over the filing cabinet, and muttered to himself:  
"She was sentimental about you." He searched for a few more moments, before pulling out a newspaper and throwing it, triumphantly, onto his desk.

'THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY' was the headline that yelled up at James. Underneath it was a picture. The paper was dated 2008. M placed his hand on the picture.  
"This is definitely Emma's grand-daughter?" he asked. James nodded, and added:  
"And it's definitely Rosie."

The two men looked down at the picture. Rosie was sitting in the sun, and the photo seemed to have been taken mid-way through a laugh. There was a carefree smile on her face, all of the enjoyment in the world caught in that smile. James was mentally kicking himself. He should have realised who she was earlier. She had hardly changed, except her eyes, which were now haunted. Though there was something in her eyes in that picture, a hint of terror, and of hatred. The eyes were Emma's, though, and he really should of recognised her.  
"Who would name their child Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond?" M mused. James just smiled.

* * *

_Emma dropped her shopping bags on the floor, and locked the front door behind her. She tossed the keys onto the sideboard, and froze. Someone had sneezed in the lounge. She made her way carefully towards the doorway, before calling out:  
"It that's you, Bond, I'll have you shot. I warned you last time." She flicked the light switch on._

_James was lounging on the sofa, a glass of whisky in his hand. He'd placed another one opposite him. Emma frowned at it.  
"Two glasses?" she queried. James didn't answer, instead watching the clock as it struck midnight.  
"Welcome to 2010, Ma'am," he said, raising his glass. Emma sank down into the chair opposite him.  
"Two glasses?" she repeated.  
"Rosaline's 20 today," James replied. Emma grabbed her glass, and drank half of it in one gulp._

"_What kind of name is Rosaline Magnolia Lorelai Bond, anyway?" James asked. Emma gave him a cold look. She drained her glass, and placed it back on the table, before she answered his question .  
"Rosaline was because they couldn't decide between Rosamund and Madeline. Lorelai was after the woman who adopted Oliver. And Magnolia…"_

"_Yeah?" James prompted.  
"Magnolia was after her other grandmother." An astonished grin spread over James' face._

"_Your real name's Magnolia?" he laughed. Emma glared at him.  
"If that goes beyond this room, I will have you shot." James laughed again, and got up to pour her a drink._

_They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the revellers outside. James was just starting to doze off, when Emma spoke._

"_I'm an old woman, Bond."  
"You're a spring chicken, Ma'am."  
"Don't joke around, Bond." Emma sounded exhausted, and James opened his eyes. She looked completely defeated, even worse that day when he had first found out about Rosie. Emma took a couple of deep breaths._

_"I haven't got long left on this world. If Rosie is found after I die, I want you to look after her." Emma stood up, and all her usual power seemed to return to her. James was surprised by the ferocity in her eyes when they next met his._  
_"You'd bloody well better look after her, Bond, for me."_

* * *

'Look after her,' that's what Emma had said. Alright then, he would.  
"You've got to take those bombs out of her, Sir," he commanded M, who raised his eyebrows.  
"Two things, Bond. First, I'm the superior. I do the ordering. Second, there's only one bomb inside her." James frowned.

"But, you said…"  
"I know what I said, 007, but that was to her. I had Q place a device inside her that blocks the signal from the bomb. POHK can no longer see where she is, hear what she's saying, and they can't make her blow up. She's safe. As long as she doesn't know that, she won't try to disappear on us. She's as safe here as anywhere." James shook his head.  
"I disagree, Sir. I think we should tell her." M's eyes narrowed.

"If you tell her, Bond, I will have you fired. Do I make myself clear?"  
"Crystal," James replied. He then turned on his heel and strode out of M's office.

* * *

**There it is! Italics bits are flashbacks (maybe should have mentioned that at the beginning). Please review, it makes the wait for Doctor Who to be back on TV more bearable.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey! Next chapter up a bit quicker than last time! As next Friday is my birthday, I hope to have another chapter up by then as a present to you all.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own James Bond :(**

* * *

Samantha watched as James neared the counter.  
"You've missed lunch," she scolded, a sensual smile spreading across her face. James grinned back.  
"I just want a quick bite. Any scones left?" Samantha's hand dove under the counter, reappearing holding a scone. James took it off her and, with his other hand, started tracing his fingers along her arm.  
"Is there a chance I could get two?" he murmured.  
"The chance is getting greater with every passing moment," she replied, her eyes smouldering. James bent over her hand, and began ghosting kisses over her palm. Samantha giggled, and another scone found its way over the counter into James' possession.

* * *

Q frowned. It was odd, James' sudden interest in the security procedures of MI6. When Q questioned this curiosity, James immediately went on the defensive.  
"I'm allowed to be interested in security, Q. Ever since Silva managed to get out and kill Emma…" James swallowed, and Q didn't press it.  
"Of course. One step ahead of the opposition, and all that. Well, it's quite basic for MI6's capabilities. Just a padlock. Although, for anyone other than me, it will be impossible to get out of the cell."

"You'd have to be a genius to pick the lock?" James clarified. Q nodded, and James, turning, walked away. Q could have sworn he'd heard him chuckle.

* * *

She'd heard him from the first moment, when the door had given its almost undetectable whine, and every time his feet softly touched the floor. Rosie noticed that he was perfect at being silent. Unfortunately for him, she was better at hearing. She knew it was the one they called Bond. Even when he wasn't being quiet, he spread his weight evenly, and placed his feet carefully, like a tiger stalking its prey. The one who had brought her to the cell, Tanner, had a limp. She hadn't heard the other one; the one with the groggy arm who had asked all the questions, walk yet. She supposed it could be him, but she doubted it. He'd been wearing a cheap aftershave, whereas the smell wafting towards Rosie was of the expensive aftershave that Bond wore.

His face came into view. She was slightly frightened by his eyes. She had noticed it the first time she had seen him, a ruthlessness that had scared. However, they were doing it again, softening. For some reason, every time he looked into her eyes, his eyes softened. She'd love to know why, but she wasn't about to ask him.

He stuck his hand through the bar.

"Sorry I lied to you when I first told you my name. I had to. It's not Oliver. It's really James. James Bond." Rosie watched his hand, but didn't move from the bench. James held it out for a few moments later, then retreated it. Her eyes remained fixed on James' hand as it dug into his pocket and returned with a tissue-wrapped object. He held it out to her and, when she didn't take it, he proffered it more insistently. She finally took it and unwrapped it.

"A scone." Rosie's voice was nonplussed and wary. James nodded. Rosie looked at it, turned it over, and then sniffed it. Her eyes were hard with suspicion as she gazed back up at him.  
"Break off a piece and I'll eat it, if you don't trust it," James said. Her eyes not leaving his face, she broke a quarter off the scone and handed it back to James. He threw the piece into his mouth.

If he had poisoned it, the chances of her giving him a poisoned portion were too high for him to risk it, she knew that. She also knew that, if he had poisoned it, he probably had an antidote tucked away somewhere. She looked down at the scone indecisively. She was so hungry.

Looking back up at James' face, she was puzzled by his expression. It was a mix of admiration and exasperation. The exasperation was probably because she wouldn't do what he wanted, but why the admiration? Did he admire her for not succumbing to his will? Or was she just reinforcing the similarities between herself and the unknown person she reminded him of?

At the same time as these thoughts were passing through Rosie's head, James was struggling to think of something he could say that would make Rosie trust him. It couldn't be something from when she was at the orphanage, because that would make her more frosty. It had to be from before she was kidnapped, when she was living with her gran. Something important, something she'd still remember…

"Koa's been sitting on the bookcase for a very long time now, waiting for you to come home," he said, gently. The effect on Rosie was electric. She jumped up off the bench, her eyes staring, the scone falling from her hand. As James crouched down, stretching an arm through the bars to catch it, he knew his reactions, although the best in MI6, were too slow to catch the falling scone. He was surprised when he did manage to catch it. Maybe he was better than he thought, and that didn't often happen.

James placed it back in Rosie's unresisting hands. She was still staring, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as she struggled to find words.  
"Eat it," he commanded. "It'll make you feel better." Rosie didn't need telling twice, and had wolfed down the scone in two seconds flat. She looked at him, hopefully. James felt guilty for eating the other scone. He should have saved it for her. Ah well, she'd have to make do with something else, instead.

"You don't have two bombs inside you. M had a device placed inside you that disrupts the signal from POHK's bomb. Basically, the only person who can blow you up now is: you." He turned and walked swiftly away, hoping to get to the door before Rosie could ask any questions. Rosie's brain was faster.  
"Why did you tell me that?" Her voice was plaintive, and James turned back round, slowly. A glimmer of hope was gently flickering in her sapphire eyes. He decided that one more truth wouldn't hurt anyone.  
"Your gran told me to look after you," he replied, and sped out of the door, not noticing the look of delight on Rosie's face.

* * *

**Please review! Tell me what you think of the story, the characters, or even the weather! I live in the Highlands, not far from Fort William, but we are completely snow-free :(**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again! I've already watched Doctor Who twice :) and me and my friends came up with this: OMEASBM. Means Oh My Evil Amazing Satanic Brilliant Moffat (OMM for short) . I thought it was brilliant :D So here's the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the James Bond franchise. It's on my Christmas list**

* * *

James was grinning to himself. Q had no idea what a fall he had set himself up for. 'For anyone other than me, it will be impossible to get out of that cell.' James snorted. What a puffed-up ego! He was in for a shock. Rosie's IQ probably equalled Q's, if not overshadowing it completely. And M. Did M really expect James to follow that kind of order, if he thought that he, James, was sentimental about Emma? Wouldn't that sentimentality simply transfer itself straight from one woman to another?

James would never have described his feelings towards Emma as sentimental. Tender, perhaps, or caring. She had become the mother figure in his life, the person he could go to whenever he needed. He would have carried the world on his back if she had told him too. That was why he had two reasons to protect Rosie. One was simply because Emma had ordered him too. That by itself was enough, but the other reason was even stronger inside James. The other was because he had failed Emma at the crucial moment, he had failed to save her life. Rosie was an extension of Emma, and he was not going to let her die because of his own failures.

He thought back to the visit to the orphanage in York, when he had first heard about Rosie's true character.

* * *

_Emma was extremely excited when they reached the orphanage, and nervous. What if she didn't like what she heard about her grand-daughter? There was a police officer waiting by the gates of the orphanage, who saluted extremely smartly for a constable when he saw Emma's ID. There was another officer inside who ushered them into the kitchen, before going off to find the woman who took care of the children._

_Their arrival time had been planned perfectly. All of the children were either in school or nursery, except for a toddler who was balanced on the hip of the woman as she entered the kitchen. The toddler was called Sam, and he seemed perfectly happy to be left sitting on the kitchen table. The woman was Celia. She looked pleasant enough, round and homely, exuding a motherly air. She was very garrulous, hardly needing to pause for breath._

_"Real bright, she was. What you'd call a wonder kid. Went to university when she was fourteen, she did. I didn't think it was possible, but apparently it is. Did a degree in Computing, and then a Master's. Computing, I ask you! Girls these days." Celia shook her head, sadly. Emma opened her mouth to say something, but she stood no chance against Celia's verbal barrage._

_"Cheeky bugger, though. Use to nick stuff out of people's pockets, then hand it straight back to them, not saying anything. I used to think that we was all just being careless, dropping things all the time, until I caught her at it. Walked in on her pinching stuff off Tom. He was bloody furious." As Celia paused for breath, Emma muttered out of the corner of her mouth:_  
_"Tom's the owner of this orphanage. He's been arrested on suspicion of abduction." Celia ploughed on._

_"She fell in with a gang. She would pick locks for them, hack into bank accounts and security systems. Don't think she ever actually lifted anything herself, but I wouldn't have put it past her. She got arrested a few times. Managed to get out of the cells every time. One time she used a wire from her bra to pick the lock, another time she seduced a policeman. Poor bloke got fired. She seemed very upset about that. Good soul, at heart. D'you want to see her room?"_

_Celia didn't stop speaking as she led them upstairs._  
_"I still remember when she was first arrived. Cute little button, she was. Told me that Rosie wasn't her 'proper' name. Hair was dyed blonde. Tom was very insistent that I kept it that colour. I should've worked out that something was wrong. Although, when she was six, Tom was perfectly happy for me to take it back to its original colour. Couldn't understand at the time why anyone would hide such a beautiful colour. So black, it was almost blue, you know." She showed them into Rosie's room._

_It was tidy, and relatively neat. The walls were painted a shade of eggshell blue, the carpet a murky beige. Celia was still going, babbling about how clean Rosie always was. James let her words turn into a stream of noise, just keeping half an ear open in case something important was said._

_Emma was walking around the room, a small, sad frown creasing her brow._  
_"No room should be so lacking in personality," she murmured, "Especially if she has the kind of personality Celia says she does. It's just… wrong." James pointed to a painting on the wall, Rosie's name crammed into one corner._  
_"There's always that," he said._

_Emma's eyes flickered over to it. She stiffened, and swiftly walked over to stand in front of it. James followed her, and watched her eyes raking over the picture, drinking in every detail that Rosie had committed to the paper._  
_"I don't believe it," she whispered._  
_"What?"_  
_"This has got to be my Rosie, because that's a painting of my room. She must have a photographic memory. She remembered every detail, every single…" Her voice tailed off, her eyes riveted to a single spot._

_James followed the line of her intense gaze, and squinted at a grey fuzzy shape that was sitting on the bed. It looked like a koala._  
_"What is it?" he asked._  
_"Koa." The word was so quiet, James almost didn't catch it._  
_"Sorry?"_

_"It's Koa, her koala teddy bear. She always left him on the bookcase, second shelf from the bottom, before she went to nursery. I haven't moved him once during the last fifteen years."_

* * *

James was still grinning to himself as he headed towards the car park. He was willing to bet good money that Rosie would be out of that cell before the end of the day. He froze, frowning to himself. He had no idea what M was planning to do with Rosie, or POHK, and James couldn't exactly ask him. He smiled to himself, and adjusted his tie, heading back up to M's office. He hadn't spoken to Moneypenny for a while, and it really was time that he caught up with her.

* * *

**Please tell me what you think :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again! I've got an extra day off school today (I'm still getting over a chest infection), so I thought I could use my spare time best by updating! I'm basing the relationship between Moneypenny and Bond off earlier films with them both in.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the James Bond franchise**

* * *

When Eve walked into her office with a cup of coffee, she found James sitting in her chair, feet on her desk. She sighed, and placed the polystyrene cup on top of a folder on the desk. She then tapped James' feet, trying to get him to move them. They stayed where they were, and James smirked at her. Eve sighed again, and sat down heavily in the chair opposite him

"I'm guessing you're not here to propose?" Eve asked, her voice slightly wistful. James shook his head, slowly.  
"No, I haven't. I brought you a flower, though." He dug a slightly squished tulip out of his pocket and handed it to her. Eve took it, and looked at it slightly suspiciously.

"What _are _you here for?" she ask, raising her head to look James straight in his eyes.  
"Information," he replied. Eve cocked an eyebrow.  
"Information?" she repeated, her voice thoughtful. "About Munchkin?" It took James a few seconds to realise who she was talking about.  
"You're calling Rosie, Munchkin?" he queried. Eve shrugged.  
"She's small."

James shook his head again.  
"Yes, I want information about Munchkin," here James rolled his eyes, "Or rather, about what M is planning to have done with her, and POHK."  
"Why should I tell you."  
"I brought you a flower."

Moneypenny smiled, and it struck James that she would never have made a good field agent, she was just too easy to get information out of.  
"Well, I think he was planning on getting information out of her," Eve said, and James snorted. She shot him a smile before continuing.

"I guessed that wasn't going too well from the mood he was in after the little chat you three had with her. He was furious. I think he thought that he'd ask her a few questions about POHK's security, get her to access the chip for him, and that would be that. Seems like it would be easier to get blood out of a stone." James nodded, a small smile playing about his lips. He'd heard that Emma, in her field agent days, had never once given information to the 'other side', not even when she was tortured. It looked like Rosie had inherited more than just her eyes off Emma.

"I'm not quite sure what the plan is about POHK. M and Tanner were saying something about storming the place, but that was before the discussion with Munchkin." Eve's eyes were unsure as they gazed into James' again.  
"Is it true? Is she really Emma's grand-daughter?" James nodded.

Eve stared at him open-mouthed for a few moments. Then she began to speak, slowly.  
"I heard M talking to himself, and then to Tanner when he came back. I couldn't believe it. It's just so… She's got Emma's eyes." James nodded again. He opened his mouth to say something but, at that moment, M strode in, looking faintly annoyed.

"Moneypenny, you need to get that report off to Parliament as soon as possible, the Defence Minister is getting impatient. Also, could you ask…" His eyes alighted on James, and his face darkened further.  
"What are _you _here for?" He glared at James' feet, which James hurriedly removed from the desk.  
"I was talking to Moneypenny," James replied. M swelled with a suppressed rage.

"Bond, I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt my secretary when she has a lot of work to do. Talk to her in her own time, not mine. She doesn't get paid for chatting." Eve looked slightly wounded, and James' eyes narrowed. He didn't like the way M was treating Moneypenny.  
"Actually, Sir, it was you who I wanted to see."  
"Oh really?"  
"Yes, Sir."

M stood by the door through to his office, his hand resting on the door handle. He glared impatiently at James."  
"What do want, 007? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"I was wondering, Sir, what the plans for Rosie and POHK are."  
"That's got nothing to do with you!" snapped M.  
"Oh, but it has," James replied quietly.

"You seem to think," said M through his teeth as he fought to keep his voice steady, "That, just because she is related to Emma, you can completely ignore my orders!"  
"Not quite, Sir," James' tone was reasonable. "I'm only ignoring your orders because Emma commanded me to look after Rosie."  
"You are sentimental about Emma! I'm seriously considering having you put on leave until this is over, so you can't disrupt anything!"  
"How can I disrupt what I know nothing about?"

M was saved from answering by the door, which had suddenly burst open to reveal a shocked-looking Q. James and M were still staring each other out, so Eve decided to respond to Q.  
"What is it?" she said, her voice impatient. She had been looking forward to an argument between the two men. Q turned to look at Moneypenny, his eyes popping slightly.  
"It's Rosie. She… The thing is, she… She's gone."

* * *

**Bit short, I know, but please review all the same. I'll be doing a couple of shout-outs next chapter :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello :) Yes, I have been absolutely ages. I just realised the other day that I could count in days rather than months to my first exam, so I put my revision head on. After a few days, I got bored, so came back to my story :)**

**I promised a couple of shout-outs last chapter, so I'd like to thank Frostivy and LilyLunaPotter142 for being my most constant reviewers.**

**Disclaimer: I own James Bond, Doctor Who, and Harry Potter... when I convince the owners to sign the contracts. For now, I'll settle with Rosie.**

* * *

M pushed on the cell door with two fingers. It moved a little, then stopped. Breathing out heavily through his nose, he stooped and picked something up off the floor. He glared at it for a few seconds, before handing it over to James, who took it, frowning. Originally, it had been a length of wire covered in white plastic, now broken in two. James held the two pieces together. It was curved. He'd seen something like it before, something he couldn't quite remember.

"A bra wire," M said, levelly. "She picked the lock with a bra wire." He rounded on Q.  
"Why was there only a padlock sealing the door?" M's every word was laced with blades. Q gulped.  
"I thought that it… that it would be enough to hold her. I didn't realise she was so accomplished."  
"There's no cameras down here, are there?" Q shook his head. "Unfortunate. We have no proof that _you,_" M whirled to face James, glaring flame-throwers at him, "Came down here, but I'm sure you did. What. Did. You. Say. To. Her?"

James stood his ground, his mind sprinting through what to say. He'd faced M angry before, but never this angry. What was wrong with him? It wasn't like Rosie was Silva, she wasn't about to go on a rampage to kill… He wrenched his mind away from those thoughts. Getting emotional at this moment wouldn't help. James brought his focus back to M, who seemed ready to explode. He had to say something, quickly. Denying he'd been down there wouldn't work. He'd have to go for the truth. Well, some of it.

"I told her I knew her gran," he said. M looked faintly bewildered, but seemed to think that James was being honest. James was glad about that. He wasn't really in the mood for confessionals. M had crouched down to examine the lock, though James didn't believe he would find anything. M wasn't an expert on locks.

Moneypenny had been standing by the door through to the rest of the MI6 building, but now she moved forward, tapping Q lightly on the arm. He turned to look at her, his eyes apprehensive.  
"Q, I just thought, the next scheduled check on Munchkin wasn't for another two hours. Why did you come down here?"

Q gulped as M and James both turned to look at him. He was wishing fervently that he could just disappear, or the floor would swallow him up, or something. He wasn't sure how M would react to the other stuff.  
"Well, uh, I found some things… at least, I didn't find them, the bomb team did."

* * *

LOCKS CAN'T HOLD ME. She'd scrawled the words across the floor in black marker pen, the large capitals strangely clipped and formal, just like her accent. James thought that had to be false. No-one spent fifteen years growing up in York and had no accent. He just hoped she didn't have a full-blown Yorkshire accent. They just annoyed him.

His eyes travelled further round the room, and fell on a computer which was open at a file, a file with a familiar face on it. The short, snow-white hair, the steely-blue gaze. M was already moving over to the computer. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, then clicked the cross on the corner of the screen. The picture vanished, but James could still see it. It seemed to be burnt onto his retina.

M turned round to face the three of them, muttering quietly to himself. James could just catch what he was saying:  
"So, she left the cells, and came up here. Why here?"  
"It's the first room after the cells, Sir," Eve said loudly. Q nodded agreement, and added:  
"It would have been empty, too." M's eyes settled on him, and Q lost all the confidence he had just mustered.  
"Well, it would be, because… because… I'd got them all to come upstairs for a meeting." The last bit was said very fast.

"How did she hack into the computer, hmm?" The blades were back in M's voice.

"Well, uh, it'd be pretty easy to hack into them from the inside. The username would already be there, she'd just have to guess the right password, or the master one. And if she'd come in right after the bomb team left, the computer would still have been logged in."  
"That won't happen again, will it?" Q shook his head fervently.  
"No, Sir, certainly not!" M opened his mouth to say something else, and stiffened, his eyes riveted on the wall behind Q's head. James followed his gaze.

There was a map of London on the wall. James' eyes were drawn to a particular spot on it. A small street on the outskirts of London, with one large building on it. A black circle was drawn around the building, the same ink colour as the writing on the floor.  
"That's POHK's base," murmured James. "Why has she circled it? Has anything else been taken?" The last question was directed at Q, who had desperately been edging away from M. He stopped, and swallowed.

"You know those really small, really powerful bombs I created? With the main control unit you could use to make them go off in waves? Well, they're missing." James tensed, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come from M. It didn't, however. M seemed to be working something out.

"So, she broke out of her cell, and came up here to find out about her gran. She must have assumed, obviously correctly, that the only way you'd know Emma is through MI6. Emma's file says that her immediate family is all dead. Rosie brings up the file, and finds out her whole family is dead, that she's alone in the world. For some reason, maybe because she blames POHK for it all, maybe just because it's an easy way to end her life, she grabs the bombs and heads off to POHK's base, to blow them up. But why? She's still under the impression that POHK can see her every action, unless…"

M's fists clenched, and his head slowly rotated to face James.  
"You told her about the blocking device, didn't you?" James was unsure about what was the best thing to do, so he nodded. M took a very deep breath.  
"Q, how long has Rosie been gone for, roughly?"  
"At best, half an hour. At worst, an hour and a half."  
"Bond, get over to POHK's base, get Rosie, and bring her back. You'd better hope she isn't injured. You're in for enough shit when this mission is over."

* * *

Cigar smoke curled around the room, the dim light doing little to penetrate the fog. Two men were crouched in front of a computer, a third man a few steps behind. The thinner of the two men by the computer spoke.  
"I'm sorry, Mr Samachio, I can't locate her. It's like something's blocking the signal." Mr Samachio brought a pudgy hand down hard on the table.  
"If you don't find her soon, I'll have you replaced. Do I make myself understood?" The thin man began typing feverishly. Mr Samachio took a puff of his cigar.  
"Where the hell can she be?" he muttered.

"Here." A chill ran down Mr Samachio's spine. The voice he recognised so well was cold, flat, dead. He slowly turned round.

* * *

**I have just realised that, even if I spread the last bit of the story over a few chapters, this adventure is basically finished :O But, fear not! I have ideas for more stories!... You're supposed to be cheering. Anyway, did you know that gravity is only a theory? What I think, is that the only thing that is keeping us floating away through space is the amount of reviews fanfiction writers get per chapter, so, if you like being on Earth, you know what to do! (That idea was shamelessly borrowed from Wintermoth. She writes great Doctor Who stories.)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello again! This wasn't supposed to be a long chapter, but it kinda evolved... I'm dedicating this to my friend who read the whole story up to the third (I think) handbag point in this chapter, and told me it was really good. From her, that's a great compliment. I've been writing this in a school exercise book before typing it up on here, and I'm halfway through the pad and the story isn't finished yet! It switches between a lot of points of view, so if you want a break-down, just drop me a message.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own James Bond**

* * *

Q whacked a button on the keyboard, and a map of London came up on the big screen. A red dot showed James' progress across the city. M was speaking into the microphone:

"We've got the police out, clearing the streets. Should speed up your progress. A crack team of police officers is also making their way to POHK, to surround the building. We don't want any of that lot escaping." The red dot was speeding up as M spoke.

An olive-skinned man broke away from a group of operatives on the other side of the room, and spoke in a low, hurried voice to Q. He nodded, and turned to M.  
"It's one of the women in the bomb team: her handbag's missing."

* * *

James arrived at POHK about fifteen minutes later. He skidded into the underground car park, and abandoned it in the middle of the car park. The Chinese attendant was moving towards him, a grim smile plastered on his face.  
"Back so soon, Mr Bond? From UNARATO, I think you said? Funny, but there's no such organisation. I see you've not bothered to park your car properly. I shall have to punish you for that." He made to pull a gun out of his belt, but James was faster.

There was a loud BANG, and the Chinaman was falling backwards, a hole in his chest, his smile forever fixed on his face. James shook his head. He preferred a bit more competition. He looked up. There were some cracks already in the ceiling, some of the bombs must have already gone off. As this thought ran through his mind, another explosion shook the building, raining dust and small bits of plaster down on James' head. He swore loudly, and sprinted up the passage to the main room.

* * *

"What the hell's going on, Bond?" M's voice was terse. James' voice came back over the radio, slightly crackly with interference.

"Some of the bombs have already gone off, Sir. The police team were already here, and have some people rounded up. I can hear screaming, but no sign of Rosie yet."  
"Shit!"  
"Something the matter, Q?" Q looked up, his face pale.

"One of our guns is missing, Sir."

* * *

_Half an hour earlier:_

Rosie's eyes were as flat as her voice, with a hint of madness playing in their depths. She was swinging a handbag in one hand, a gun clenched tightly in her left. Mr Samachio pulled back his lips, his yellowing teeth showing in more of a snarl than a smile.  
"Ah, Ghostie. How nice of you to join us." Mr Samachio gestured with his cigar at the third man in the room, who looked like a leather-clad mountain. He took a couple of steps towards Rosie, his arms swinging menacingly. Rosie dropped the bag, and raised the gun, pointing it straight at the leather mountain. He stopped, seemingly unsure about what to do.

Not moving the gun an inch, Rosie turned her attention to Mr Samachio.  
"You made my life a misery ever since I arrived in Hong Kong. You made sure everyone despised me, the strange, reserved, British girl, with the funny accent and the weird clothes. You forced me to speak all posh and, when I asked to come back home, you completely over-reacted! Oh yeah, you let me come back home, but you rigged me up to explode if I ever got back to my family. You wanted to know why I stole the chip? Partly so you wouldn't kill me, but I remembered my gran for the Government. I hoped I'd be able to give it to her somehow. Shouldn't have bothered. She's dead." Her hand twitched slightly, one finger pressing down slightly on the trigger.

Mr Samachio took a long puff on his cigar, and blew the smoke towards Rosie's face.  
"I never knew you could be so talkative, Ghostie. It's nice to hear you speak, before you die. Get her, Mufa." Mufa reached inside his leather jacket, pulled out a knife, and threw it at Rosie. She ducked a little late, the knife catching her right shoulder. As Mufa went for another knife, Rosie straightened up, steadied her arm, and fired.

Mufa had gone slightly cross-eyed, as if he'd watched the bullet while it had impacted between his eyes. As he keeled over, Rosie brought her arm round in a smooth movement, pulled back the safety catch, and fired again. Mr Samachio gurgled slightly, sinking to his knees, blood spurting from the wound in his throat.

Rosie now turned to face the thin man by the computer. He looked like he had stopped breathing. The first wave of bombs went off, shaking the building, and bringing the light fitting down on the computer in a shower of sparks. A small squeak escaped from between the man's lips.  
"Get out of here," she commanded. Her voice was shaking badly, along with her hand. The man didn't need telling twice. He darted past her, making indistinct noises as he disappeared down the corridor. Rosie dropped the gun and ran down a corridor opposite, a sob catching in her throat.

* * *

He hated hysterical crowds, they were so pathetic. James gritted his teeth and pushed his way against the flow of people trying to escape the crumbling building, their screams muffled by the shrill shriek of a fire alarm. The ceiling in the main room had caved in completely, a bed sitting incongruously in the middle of the room. James shook his head, mildly impressed. Rosie must have moved incredibly fast to plant so many bombs without being detected. Talking about Rosie… where the hell was she? He glanced around the room, at the last few stragglers. All Oriental. He bit his lip, indecisively, then chose a corridor and sprinted up it.

* * *

Eve entered the room, two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed one to Q, and placed the other in front of M, gazing at him with a worried expression. M was pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping against hope that nothing else would happen. If the Government ever found out about the fiasco that had been today… Well, he'd probably be made to 'voluntarily' retire. Ironic, really.

Q gave a small squeak, and M's fingers tightened, the nails digging into the skin on his nose. Oh God. What was missing now?  
"She's left the chip, Sir." Q's voice was vaguely confused. M jerked his head round, staring. A $1 casino chip was lying in the centre of Q's palm, slightly too thick and too shiny to be real.

"Rosie's an excellent bomber, Sir." James' voice broke in on M's reverie.  
"What?" M barked.  
"Rosie. She's a good bomber. Most of the building is down, and I'm pretty sure there's still more to go off."  
"007, I don't appreciate your flippancy. I meant what I said earlier, Bond. If Rosie comes back in more than one piece, there will be consequences."  
"Sir, why are you so worried about Rosie?"  
"Because, Bond, as I have tried to make you understand countless times, I have a great respect for Emma. I don't want her grand-daughter to die because of me. I don't think being haunted by Emma's ghost would be an enjoyable experience."

* * *

James chuckled at M's last words, but sombered immediately. No, he didn't want to fail here, either. He'd made one too many mistakes during Emma's last few days. Rosie was not going to die, not today. He walked into a smoke-filled room, and something clattered away from his foot. He bent down, fumbling around on the floor for the object. His hand closed around it. He brought it close to his eyes, and studied in intently.

"Q, this gun Rosie took. What does it look like?"  
"It's a compact little thing, quite sturdy, with a walnut inlay."  
"She's been here," murmured James. "She's definitely been here." The smoke in the room was starting to lift, and James' stomach flipped. There were two huddled figures lying on the floor.

Pocketing Rosie's gun, and flicking the safety catch on his own, James squinted through the fog. She couldn't be dead, could she? No, one of the shapes was too tall, the other too fat. He padded towards the first shape, a mountain of a man clad completely in leather, a neat hole in the centre of his forehead, right between the eyes. James glanced over at the other figure, which he recognised as Mr Samachio. He was lying in a pool of blood, the hole in his throat separating his double chins from his neck. It worried James how accomplished Rosie was at killing people. Where had she learned to kill?

He stood up and surveyed the room. There was a handbag near the second doorway out of the room. He strode over to it, and began digging through the contents. Miscellaneous make-up, a bunch of keys, an MI6 pass-card, a pack of tissues, driving license, wallet, wrappers, and passport. James pocketed everything except the make-up, tissues, and wrappers. The bomb team member could replace those, and the handbag.

James rubbed the side of his head, thinking hard. The corridor he was standing by now, the one with the handbag next to it, probably led to the outside, if the fire exit sign was anything to go by. He'd have to go back to that main room again. The building shook with another explosion, a large piece of plaster breaking over James' head. He began to swear again, this time in German. Why couldn't Rosie be standing in the open, with a flashing sign over her head? Or why hadn't she left the building, to be picked up by the police? Women shouldn't be independent, it unnerved him. Growling slightly in the pit of his throat, James raced back towards the main room, dodging pieces of plaster as he went.

* * *

"Jeez! Calm down, woman!" The Oriental woman ignored the police officer, trying to bite him as she struggled to free her arms. A second policeman hurried over to help the first. Grunting and heaving, they finally managed to get her in the back of a police van. The first officer ran a hand across his forehead, then gestured at the other man.  
"Lovely scratch there, Bob." Bob rubbed his cheek, and smiled ruefully.  
"First woman I grabbed. Swear she thought she was a cat, and that I was a scratching post!" The two men laughed.

Bob's radio crackled into life, and he grabbed it, listening intently.  
"New instructions, Larry. We need to keep an eye out for someone. Female, black-haired, blue eyes, short, and British. Last seen wearing a peach dress. If we pick her up, we have to report to the Chief immediately." Larry frowned, as he puzzled something out.  
"Reckon she's dangerous, Bob?"

"God knows. She's probably important, though."

A figure came hurrying out of the collapsing building, and Larry gestured to Bob. The two men began to spread out, ready to pounce on the person if they tried to escape. The two officers were surprised, however, when the figure, a thin man, stopped directly between Bob and Larry. The man held his arms out, wrists together, and begged in a panicky voice:  
"Please, take me somewhere safe."

Bob and Larry exchanged a glance, and moved cautiously towards the man. Larry clapped a pair of handcuffs on the man, and started to caution him, but the man interrupted.  
"I don't care why you're arresting me, I just want to be away from that girl! How can someone who is so alive have eyes that are so dead?"

* * *

Sunlight was filtering through into the main room now, plaster dust gently swirling through the air. James' chest was starting to constrict. If he didn't find Rosie soon, they were either going to choke to death, or be buried alive.  
"Report, Bond." M sounded worried. James coughed harshly, before replying.  
"I have no idea where she is, Sir. I can't think properly." There was a dead silence on the other end of the line, and the Eve's voice sounded in James' ear.  
"Have you checked her bedroom, Bond? That's where I always used to hide when I was scared." James was moving before Moneypenny had finished speaking. He was mentally kicking himself. Of course! That's where he'd used to hide when he was upset, before his parents died. How could he have been so stupid!

* * *

M was staring into thin air, his fingers lightly crossed. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bond, it was just that Bond's cough hadn't sounded particularly healthy. They were running out of time. Moneypenny and Q were talking to each other, but M was only half listening.  
"Why were you talking to the bomb team, anyway?"  
"Well, we were going over the pictures of the bomb inside Munchkin together, and… Oh!"  
"What?"  
"I completely forgot! Sir?"

M blinked a couple of times, re-focusing his eyes.  
"Hmm?"  
"I can't believe I forgot, but what with Munchkin… I mean, Rosie escaping and everything, it just slipped my mind. I know how to get the bomb out of Rosie." There was a couple of seconds pause.  
"Did you get that, Bond?" An affirmative came back to M. Mallory relaxed slightly. Maybe Rosie would be more willing to come back, if she knew she would get her life back.

* * *

James hurried down the same corridor he had first walked down 36 hours ago. It didn't feel like 36 hours, it felt like eons earlier. He had to slow down slightly as he rounded the corridor, and pick his way carefully between the plaster and pipes. Water from the pipes was beginning to mix with the plaster, a white sludge caking James' shoes. His head snapped up at the sound of a harsh cough. Someone else was down here. James was seriously hoping it was Rosie.

The door to her room had been blown completely off its hinges. He poked his head round the door frame, squinting into the room. There, sitting by the end of her bed, her raven hair streaked with white, her knees drawn up under her chin. Her shoulders were shaking, her breathless sobs occasionally punctuated by sharp coughs. He slowly moved towards her, like she was a wounded animal he didn't want to startle.

"Rosie?" She raised her head at her name, her tears leaving glistening tracks in her dust-covered face. James crouched down in front of her, his hand resting gently on her knee.  
"Hello," he murmured. An incoherent sound came out of her mouth. James cocked his head to one side as roof tiles landed right behind him, sunlight cutting through the hole left by the tiles.

"It's getting a bit risky in here, don't you think? We could get killed." Rosie just shrugged in reply.  
"Do you want to die?" Shrug. James was getting frustrated. He was starting to have trouble breathing, and he could hear Rosie wheezing. Did she really want to die like this, by suffocation? And then a thought struck James.  
"You don't know what you want, do you? You not sure if you want to live or die, so you're going to let the building collapse round you and do the deciding for you. That's right, isn't it?" There was a brief pause, then Rosie nodded.

James ran a hand through his hair, breathing out heavily, the sigh turning into a laboured cough. When the fit subsided, he looked straight into Rosie's eyes, from which occasional tears were still falling. James smiled at Rosie, patting her knee softly.  
"I kind of understand what you're feeling. There's no point in living if you can't feel alive, is there? And how can you feel alive, with your family dead and that bomb inside you? But you need to listen to me, because Q's worked out how to get that bomb out of you, and he'll get all the other gadgets out too. You'll get to stop being a walking technology advertisement."

A ghost of a smile played around Rosie's lips, and she finally spoke:  
"And the dead family?" Her voice was tired, but a glimmer of hope was beginning to return to her eyes.  
"Having no family isn't the end of the world. Believe me, I know. Anyway, I can tell you most of the stuff you'd want to know about your family, and I'm sure M could be persuaded to let you have a proper look at your Gran's file."

There was something else glinting in Rosie's eyes now, something that looked like mischief. It cheered James up. His suggestion of living seemed to appeal to her.  
"What if I say no to leaving here?" Rosie asked, straight-faced. James' face was equally bland as he countered:  
"I'd just have to carry you out, kicking and screaming." He stood up, and held out his hand.  
"So, you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?" Rosie hesitated, then grabbed James' hand.

* * *

**So, I think there may be only one chapter left (another longish one), and then that's it!**

**I'm giving out cookies to the people who notice the quote from a Bond song in this chapter. Well, I would give out cookies, if I had any. If I did have some, I would give them out though. I'll give you virtual cookies instead :) So, review away!**


	12. Chapter 12

**There are three reasons this is so late. 1. I didn't want to finish it. 2. It is full of explanations and dialogue. I hate writing both of those. 3. My parents seem to feel that revising for exams is far more important than writing a Fanfiction. They really need to sort out their priorities. Exams are finished, so here it is! It is a bit explanation heavy, not quite so action-packed as the last chapter. I've got a few shout-outs:****  
****Jasperspixie - For noticing the quote :)**  
**LilyLunaPotter142 - For naming the quote and being one of my most constant reviewers.**  
**Frostivy - For being my other most constant reviewer.**

**Disclaimer - I do not own James Bond. I do own a lot of the characters in this Fanfiction though. Please don't nick them, or I'll set the cookie monsters on you**

* * *

The scowl on James' face lightened slightly when Rosie came out of the operating theatre, but he was still furious with M for making him stay in the hospital overnight. So what if his lungs were full of plaster! Hospitals creeped him out. Though it made a change to be in hospital when he wasn't actually dying.

He sat by Rosie's bed, listening to the steady beep, beep of the heart monitor. The colour was slowly returning to her cheeks, her breathing deep, her eyelids occasionally fluttering, as if she wanted to wake up, but couldn't quite manage it. James stayed where he was for two hours, waiting for Rosie to wake up. Finally, her hands clenched on the covers, her eyelids opened, and a small moan escaped from between her lips.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. How's the stomach?" Rosie grumbled a reply, which sounded vaguely like "Sod off". James laughed, and said:  
"Careful, you'll hurt my feelings. I'll start crying." Rosie grumbled again, this time more clearly:  
"Big girl's blouse." James tilted his head to one side, raising his eyebrows.  
"So says the woman who was bawling her eyes out at POHK."

Rosie looked slightly shame-faced.

"It's just that I'd never killed anyone before. I hated his guts, but it was his eyes. They were the last thing that went…" She drew in a shuddering breath, and James frowned.  
"Never killed anyone? You shot them just as efficiently as I would have done. What do you do, kill in your sleep?" Rosie shook her head vehemently.

"No. They taught us how to shoot with targets, and had us practise close combat with each other. POHK had groups of people that would raid places, getting equipment and capturing new recruits for them, killing anyone who they wanted dead. I refused. I didn't want to drag other people in like I had been. So I was made a sex slave. I didn't like that much either, but it was either that or death." She shrugged slightly.

"Well, eventually I hatched a plan. I asked to be transferred to London, because I decided that running away to Hong Kong was the worst thing I could have done. I should have just come back to London when I left York, but I wasn't thinking straight. As sex slaves we got one day off a week and I thought that, during that time, I could find my relatives and get them to buy me out of POHK. Of course, I didn't tell Mr Samachio that bit. He grudgingly agreed to the transfer, for a short period of time at least. He was coming over for three months anyway. And then I did the stupidest thing possible: I stole the chip.

"I remembered that Gran worked for the Government, and I thought she would trust me if I gave her the chip. But someone saw me steal it. And then I got locked up for a week and interrogated about where I'd put it, and they dug through all my stuff to find out where it was, but I'd always hidden it in the bra I was wearing. They never thought about that one. They weren't very creative.

"After that week, they branded me and let me out, saying that I wasn't going to get my days off while I was in London. So I spoke to a friend," Rosie snorted loudly at that point, "And we made a plan together, that I would run away from POHK as soon as I got to London. Of course, my friend ran straight to Samachio. He over-reacted completely." James raised his eyebrows.  
"Over-reacted to someone planning to run away with all the information about POHK you could ever hope to have?" Rosie smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose it might not be considered over-reacting, but putting a bomb inside me? Really? He said I would get blown up if I ever stepped outside POHK's base. I'm still not quite sure how we managed to get to MI6 without him realising what was happening."  
"I think we just got lucky," James responded. Rosie nodded thoughtfully.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Rosie's hands playing with the bed covers, her eyes fixed on the heart monitor. James watched her every move, analysing them. Fidgeting hands: uncomfortable. Not sure if she should say something or not. Eyes on the heart monitor, perhaps worried about her heart, or maybe just annoyed by the noise. Her shoulders were relaxed, though, so she obviously felt comfortable around him.

A question slowly bubbled into James' brain.

"What's your natural accent? It can't be naturally posh." Rosie grinned.  
"No, it's not. Apparently, no-one in Hong Kong could understand my normal accent, so I had to speak proper." James snorted. "I haven't spoken naturally for ages. It'll be really weird." With every word that Rosie spoke, her tone became softer, a Yorkshire accent becoming more obvious. Her pronunciation was still very clear-cut, and James found himself attracted to her accent. It wasn't too harsh, and he could understand every word she said. He smiled then, looking directly into Rosie's eyes, and she blushed. James couldn't understand why.

Rosie opened her mouth to say something, just as M walked in.

"Ah, Bond. Could you leave the room, I want to talk to Bond." James frowned, and M corrected himself quickly.  
"007, could you go away, I want to talk with Miss Bond." James nodded, and started to leave when M handed him a large brown envelope.  
"You might want to check this over quickly, Bond." As James left the room, he peered inside the envelope and saw the header on the papers: 'The Last Will and Testament of Magnolia Elizabeth Shaw'.

* * *

James crunched the gears in his Aston and shot Rosie a look out of the corner of his eye. Eve had gone out and bought some clothes for Rosie because "She had a good eye for sizes". He had to admit Eve was right. Rosie was wearing black skinny jeans and a close-fitting red-checked blouse. Her fingers were plucking unconsciously at the sleeve of her shirt, and she looked depressed.

They'd been driving for about ten minutes when Rosie broke the silence.

"I feel like I should pay Eve back for these clothes, but I have no money, no job, no house, no anything." James looked over at Rosie again. She was looking straight back at him, her face downcast. James gave her a reassuring smile.

"Do you really think your gran would have left you nothing? She left you her house, and her money, with a condition that, if you hadn't claimed it in ten years it would go to charity."

"But, I'd completely disappeared. For all she knew, I could be dead. Why did you leave it to me?"

"After she found out you'd been in York, she never believed you were dead. She always said you'd come back."

* * *

James cautiously pushed open the front door with his shoulder, and dumped the bags on the sideboard. He kicked the door shut behind him and put the chain on. He'd dropped Rosie off half an hour earlier and gone out to get stuff to make tea with, so Rosie could have some time by herself. It felt weird to be back in Emma's house. Last time he'd been here, she'd thought that he was dead. Now, he knew she was dead.

He went into the kitchen, praying that there was a kettle and two mugs there. Someone up above seemed to be on his side, and he made up two mugs of tea, carrying them through to the lounge to wait for Rosie. She was already there, her feet tucked up under her on the sofa, cradling a toy koala in her arms. She glanced up at James as he walked in, and smiled contentedly.

"I found Koa on the bookcase, just like you said," she told James happily. He grinned back at her, and offered a mug to her. She took it with her left hand, and sipped it.

James sat down in the chair opposite her, and gestured at her right shoulder:  
"How's your battle wound doing?" he asked. Rosie shrugged, winced, and laughed.

"Actually, it's not been too bad. It hasn't been bothering me too much." James frowned, confused.  
"But, don't you keep using it by accident?" Rosie stared at James, puzzled, and then her face cleared as realisation dawned in her eyes.  
"Oh, I see what you mean. I suppose it would be affecting me, if I was right-handed, but I'm far too individualistic for that." James chuckled quietly, and Rosie smiled broadly at him. She gulped down some more of her tea, and then looked straight at James again.

"I wanted to ask you at the hospital, but M came in, so I couldn't. How much trouble did you get in with M? I'm guessing you weren't supposed to feed me, or tell me the bomb wasn't real?" James shook his head, smiling ruefully.  
"The last few missions I've done I haven't exactly done as I'm told, and M's been warning me for a while there'd be consequences if I carried on ignoring instructions. So yeah, after this mission and my disobedience, he's suspended me for six months."

Rosie's mouth had fallen open.

"Six months?" she spluttered. James shrugged.

"To be honest, I was going to get suspended for a year or, even worse, given a desk job. I think I might have to watch my step from now on, though." Rosie gave a soft laugh.

Her eyes were travelling round the room, drinking in every detail. Her eyes rested on a photograph that was sitting on the drinks cabinet. James glanced over at it. He'd seen it many times before, but had never really paid any attention to it. He looked at it properly now. There were three people in the picture. A short woman with long ginger hair and startling blue eyes had her arm wrapped around the waist of a tall man with green eyes and hair that was so black it was almost blue. Sitting on his shoulders was a toddler with the man's blue-black hair and the woman's amazingly blue eyes. They were all laughing, the toddler happily waving her arms.

"That's you with your parents, isn't it?" James asked. Rosie nodded absent-mindedly, and then abruptly turned to face James.  
"It's probably really morbid, but I've been wondering about it ever since I read Gran's file. How… how did Mum die?" James took a deep breath, recalling everything Emma had ever told him about Lilyanne.

"It's slightly long-winded, so bear with me. After your birth, your mum got post-natal depression. She got pregnant again, and the depression started to get better. She was becoming really happy again, and then she gave birth to a still-born. And then your dad was sent to Sierra Leone, and didn't come back. Your mum's depression got even worse. Your gran said she had to take the two of you in, because your mum was incapable of looking after herself, let alone you." Rosie nodded.

"I remember that. I mean, I didn't understand why, but I remember moving in with Gran. She taught me how to read." Rosie smiled at the memory. "What I don't understand is how she was always around? I mean, she was important in MI6 by then, so how did she manage to get so much time off to look after us?" Rosie mused. James looked vaguely impressed.

"How'd you work out your gran was important in MI6 when you were two?" Rosie bit her lip, thoughtfully. "Gran used to take me to the park a lot, and one time I remember asking her about a man that always followed her around. He was dressed completely in black, with sunglasses and a crew cut. She told me he was there to protect her. And then I asked her why he hadn't been there to protect Dad." She rubbed her nose self-consciously.

"Anyway, when I was older I worked out that, if Gran had a bodyguard, she must be someone important. At first I thought royalty, but I ruled that out pretty quickly. I decided a Government organisation, but not Parliament itself, cause I'd have seen her on telly. I never figured it was MI6, though." She looked sharply at James. "But I interrupted you. I'm sorry." James just shrugged, signalling that he didn't mind. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Your mum had finally got to the point she would get a shower without being told to, and was starting to cook again, and then you vanished. It was all downhill from there. She turned to the alcohol, started smoking, and eventually got entangled in drugs. She became involved with someone, but it didn't end well. She killed herself when you were six." Rosie's eyes had gone slightly out of focus, as if she was staring at something James couldn't see. In a faraway voice, she said:  
"It said I had an uncle. I think I remember him. I'm sure he had a beard."

I wouldn't know," James replied dryly. "I never met him." He sighed heavily. "He was driving one day, and swerved to avoid a child that ran into the road. There was a lorry coming the other way. The doctor said he died on impact. His partner was in the car with him. He survived, just about. Was in a coma for a while. Think he moved to Edinburgh, or maybe Glasgow. The car crash happened in 2009."

The faraway look still in her eyes, Rosie smiled bitterly.

"I should have come straight back to London when I ran away from York, not gone to Hong Kong. I just… panicked. If I'd come back, Uncle would have still been alive, and Gran." Her eyes came back to the real world, and she gave James a penetrating stare.  
"It said, on the file, that Gran was shot, and the name Silva was on the file as well. What happened?" James looked at another photo on the drinks cabinet, this one of four people: two young children, a man, and a woman. He only had eyes for the woman. Even through the photo her eyes seemed to be berating him for something.  
"I suppose," he answered quietly, "That it all began on top of a train in Turkey…"

* * *

The six months had passed incredibly slowly. James had never been so bored in his life. And he was furious with Rosie. After the first evening, he'd gone round a few more times to tell her about her gran, and to spend some time with her. The fifth time he'd gone round, she'd told him she was going away, but wouldn't say where she was going, or how long she'd be gone. Three weeks later, she was back, and was extremely vague about where she'd been. This had happened a couple more times, and James had got annoyed. She obviously didn't want anything to do with him, so he wasn't going to hang around where he wasn't wanted. Anyway, he'd done want Emma had asked him to do. He'd looked after Rosie. She was safe. Somehow, though, he missed talking to Rosie. She was quite impish, and quick with the comebacks. He'd had a lot of fun when he'd been with Rosie.

He mentally scolded himself for letting his mind wander. M came back over from the filing cabinet, and dropped three files on the desk. He sat down, leant back in his chair, and stared at James.  
"You'll be training a new agent, 007." James closed his eyes in horror.

"Oh good," he replied sarcastically, re-opening his eyes.

"Don't take that tone with me, Bond. You're lucky you've still got a job." M opened the top file on the desk.  
"There are a few things that you should know about the new agent before they come in. Their reactions are a bit slow, you'll need to train them up a bit with those. They're mildly dyslexic, but hopefully that shouldn't affect missions too much. They've also got an IQ that could rival Q's, and their computer skills are phenomenal." James let the information enter his brain, dreading what he was going to live through for the next months. He hated training new agents. They were always so slow, and were no fun to be with.

M closed the file, and pressed the intercom button on the side of his desk.

"Bring in Agent 70, Moneypenny." James half-turned as Eve ushered 70 in. His dread washed away, and three words came into his brain to describe why Rosie had been so vague about what she'd been doing: Official Secrets Act. She was coming towards now, looking very smart in a navy-blue suit, smiling winningly and showing her dimples. He grinned back and jumped to his feet, pushing out a chair for her to sit in.

"Wonderful to see you again, Bond," he said.

"You too, Bond," she replied.  
"And here I was thinking you were going on holiday all the time." Rosie raised an elegant eyebrow.  
"You're supposed to be the man who can make links between the obscurest things to reveal any mastermind's plan, yet you thought I was going on holiday. Tell me, how dim are these masterminds?" James jokingly scowled at her, and she laughed.

They sat down at the same time, and turned to look at M. He was watching them both, looking faintly worried.  
"Double Bond," he murmured. "What have I let myself in for?"

"I wouldn't worry, Sir," Rosie countered. "Like in chemistry: a double Bond is much stronger than a single Bond." M gave her a cold stare, and Rosie stared right back, her eyes wide and innocent. Eventually M gave in, shaking his head. He flung a file each to the two Bonds, and steepled his fingers together.  
"Now, what do you two know about Australia?"

* * *

**So that's it. The last chapter. I have vague ideas for the next installment in this series, but I shall need to do a proper plan before I start writing. All I know right now is that it will have Rosie in it. As soon as it goes online, I will update this story with the name of the Fanfiction so you all know. I am away for 10 days, so if anyone's sent me any questions, I will reply as soon as I get back.**

**Thank you everybody who has favourited, followed, and reviewed this story. See you on the next one (hopefully) :)**

**~DoctorPeeves**


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